He kept seeing her face, white with fear, eyes wide, lips bloodless, that murderous knife at her throat. She’d been bleeding—her lip from where she’d bitten it in her struggles, her neck from where the bastard had nicked her with his knife. His stomach rolled. That knife had been right over her artery. All that spirit, gone in the blink of an eye.
A black tide of despair engulfed him. He’d tried to warn her. He’dtoldher he was a killer. But she hadn’t comprehended the horrifying, visceral reality of it. Not until today. Despair gnawed away at his insides.
He groaned and sank under the water again. She’d seen him at his most violent. His most feral. And yet she’d cut through his black rage. The little idiot had begged for mercy for her attacker. And, miracle upon miracle, he’d listened.
He should have known she wouldn’t sit meekly and wait for him back at thepalacio.If he hadn’t been so intent on finding Kit he’d have remembered she wasn’t the kind of girl to take no for an answer. She was disobedient, stubborn, headstrong, infuriating. He hated the turmoil she aroused in him. Hated himself for wanting her so fiercely.
Raven scrubbed a hand over his face and winced at a bruise forming on his jaw. He should have comforted her at the cave, should have gathered her into his arms and just stroked her back or something. But how could she welcome his touch when she’d seen him kill with those same hands? She was going to be terrified of him now, and rightly so. Part of him wanted it, but most of him rebelled at the idea. She had to know that he’d never hurt her. He’d rather kill himself than harm a single hair on her head.
He dropped his chin to his chest. At least now she’d keep her distance, exactly as she’d done after that god-awful night six years ago.
He’d made her hate him then, too.
Her brothers had always taken advantage of her inability to turn down a challenge, no matter how outlandish, and that day they’d told her to go and hide, knowing she was such a stubborn little devil she’d refuse to come out unless she was actually “found.” They’d enjoyed a good hour of uninterrupted fishing, and when the time came to go and find her, Raven had drawn the short straw.
He’d had a fairly good idea of where she was hiding: the grotto, a shell-encrusted monstrosity created by one of his ancestors, right on the border between their two adjoining properties. The folly had been built to resemble artless ruins, with a series of seashell-covered caves built into the natural tunnels that led through the cliffs to caves at the coast.
He’d ducked under the low doorframe and dodged the moss and ferns growing from the walls.
“Hellcat? Come out, I’ve found you.”
“I can’t.” A whimper, barely heard. Then a sniffle, barely concealed.
Immediate guilt flooded him. Oh, shit, they’d left her down here for well over an hour. Alone. Dread clenched his gut. “Are you hurt?”
“Of course I’m hurt, you idiot! Do you think I’m still down here because it’s fun?”
Oddly, he felt a measure of relief at her aggrieved wail. She couldn’t be too badly injured if she was still sniping at him. He made his way down to her. It was pitch black and he cursed the fact that he had no flame. “What did you do?”
“I slipped on this stupid moss and then the stupid step crumbled under me. I’ve twisted my ankle.”
He edged his way closer to her, using his ears more than his eyes. He could hear her breathing. He reached out with his hand and encountered something soft and squashy. He frowned and tested it with his fingers. It fitted perfectly in his palm. Shit! It was her breast. He reared back at the same time she did.
“That is not my ankle,” she said in a small, choked voice.
“Sorry.”
He didn’t feel sorry. In fact, he felt instantly aroused, the blood pooling in his groin making his cock stand to attention. He ground his molars and forcefully reminded himself of his mantra.Best friends’ sister. Out of bounds. Not. For. You.
He became intensely aware that it was just the two of them inside the small, dark building. The mossy ferns gave off a fecund scent, earthy and moist, like sex.
“Raven?”
“What?”
“I’m glad you found me.”
Heloise leaned forward, slid her arms around his neck, and unerringly found his lips in the dark.
Raven froze. God, her small breasts pressed against his chest and her sweet, soft lips molded themselves over his. The scent of her filled his nose and for one dark moment he’d been utterly unable to resist.
He opened his mouth and gave her his tongue, slanting his head and kissing her fully, slowly, deeply. She released a breathy little moan and accepted him into her mouth, mimicking his actions with an artless enthusiasm that made his blood boil. It was awkward, rough, unpolished. It was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced in his life.
And then he bashed his elbow against the wall and in a horrifying flash realized where it would lead—to a marriage proposal, not a pleasant screw in the dark. Heloise was a woman of worth. Innocents were a bad idea. He’d find himself shackled and betrothed before he’d even had time tolive.
For one crazy moment he actually considered making an offer for her. Would that be so bad? God, yes. He was eighteen. The grandson of a Duke. Too young to be tied down. Not by her, not by any woman.
“Raven?” she whispered, trying to pull his face back down to hers.